Preacher or Performer? The Crying Baby Test

I was recently at a Conference where each day the Bible Study was led by a performance artist/theologian who acted out the biblical story and gave some exegetical/theological insight to the Scriptures. The content was terrific: substantial and challenging. But on the second day, a baby began to jibber-jabber loudly in the audience. After a few minutes of this, the performer stopped the show, looked in frustration at the baby and parent, and said “I love children, but I’m getting really distracted.” The parent and child got up and left the room…followed by several other parents who went out in solidarity and in protest.

I talked later with the parent and I made this claim: a crying baby is a test as to whether someone is preaching or performing.

A performance is about focus and transmission of content: a solo or group act is on-stage doing an activity (singing, dancing, speaking, painting, instrument performance, etc) and it is the audience’s job to receive the content and appreciate or engage it.

A sermon (and I tend to appreciate black preachers’ definitions of sermons and preaching) is “verbal and nonverbal communication of the inward manifestation of a command by the Holy Spirit to relate to others something about God’s presence, purpose, and power in one’s life and in the life of all of humanity” (Teresa Fry Brown, Delivering the Sermon, pp. 17)

Given these two definitions, I get how babies can be a distraction to a performance. As a parent of an 11-month-old, my crying baby seems to be about 10x louder for me than she is for other people. Her cries are amplified, her running commentary on her dad’s sermon pierces through a crowd. So I get how a baby would interrupt a performance’s transmission of beauty or message because they interrupt that well-crafted focus.

But Preaching is about naming and claiming God’s love present in the room. It’s about that Holy Spirit that isn’t given to the preacher and then transmitted to the people: that Spirit is in each one there and they communicate back and forth. Churches that have call-and-response to the preaching moment get this phenomenon, and to them, crying babies are just another “amen” section. The preacher is preaching if they connect with the congregation: calling out a crying baby and causing them to leave idolizes the spoken word as more important than the body of Christ fully present in the room.

There are practical considerations: churches create “cry rooms” so that parents feel more comfortable (and, to be honest, some non-parents as well). Other parishioners can help comfort the baby if the parent is okay with it. I’ve seen my share of church-fails such as when another parishioner took a baby out of the parents hands and walked with the baby out of the sanctuary–had I been a more fully aware preacher, that would have merited a call-out! Let’s be clear: Parents self-selecting to take a baby out is one thing: public shaming or pressure to send a baby out is wholly another.

It’s my belief that if I can’t preach over, above, through, or alongside a crying baby, then I have no business preaching. And I should do serious reflection as to whether I am performing the Word of God or if I am allowing the Word to speak through and without me–and the latter will not be stopped by a crying baby, and indeed, it is incomplete without the presence of all who need to experience it.

Comments

My observation is that if a church can’t handle a baby crying during a service or sermon, then they certainly can’t handle a homeless person, or someone who looks different, or speaks a different language, etc. Of course, a congregation that welcomes children, with all the crying and joyous noises, might not be prepared either, but I would suspect, they’d be more open to welcoming the “others” in their midst.

I’ve served churches where such a sound was not heard… There were no babies unless someone came back home to visit & had a baby. Pretty much I think they were considered distractions by certain ones in the congregation. Most of my congregations have been multigenerational and as such had some babies. When one starts to cry or fuss, I have often publicly thanked God to be part of a church family that includes the “sounds of life.” Where, but church, should a child be found?

Very nicely said. It reminded me of a moment during the Good Friday Liturgy at the Catholic Church that I serve at where, during the great silence and the prostration of the minster before the Altar this Baby let out this piecing cry that was just perfectly timed; as if to remind us of the desolation of the moment, of Calvary. Mishaps in the liturgy shouldn’t be sought, but when they do occur; I often see it as the Holy Spirit breaking through and waking us up.

One Christmas Eve, in a packed, one room church, we had a crying baby and a terrified young parent, who felt like everyone was staring at her – and that she only had going out in the cold of the night as an option.

My solution? To ask if I could hold the little girl in my arms as I preached.

I stood and rocked and spoke what I needed to say, and together, she and I shared Gospel. Till one of us fell asleep.

To my great sadness, an older member of the church once sought me out to say that she hoped there would be no children at the Christmas Eve Late Mass because it would disturb her worship, I suggested that a woman in full labor, with maybe some farm animals-chickens, cows and a mule or two–in a hay born might not be all that quiet and I welcome the children who welcome Baby Jesus. I hear prayer in the tiny voices who cry and fuss and want to be held, just as I do in the laughter of others… may our laughter be our prayer when we are in communion with each other, and God.

After this morning, I have a new appreciation for the “no crying babies” group. I am a 60-something who arrived at church late and sat in the back. There was a guest priest, whose voice isn’t quite as booming as that if our regular priest. There were several young children in church and they were being young children. I found myself straining to hear the message and missing what may have been important chunks. Now, I typically attend this family-oriented service, but I usually sit in front, where the noise is mostly behind me, not between me and the person giving the sermon. It was a good reminder that I need to get to church on time, but it also made me appreciate why those who may be a little hard of hearing Need a quieter venue.

I consider myself a preacher and not a performer, but I am not gifted with a loud, booming “preacher voice” and I find it hard on both myself (I preach without notes and have to focus on what I’m sharing) and the mostly elderly members of my congregation – hearing aids do not filter baby noise very effectively. I am also the mother of two children who certainly did their share of making noise in church. My gauge was always whether they were really gearing up for a fit, or were just in the “I’m-hungry-bored-tired” phase from which they could be easily distracted. I do agree that as parents, we tend to be overly focused on how disruptive our child is being (an older church member once told me that he considered my son’s crying to be “angel music”), but it’s also distracting for the parents. I often heard more of the sermon and got more out of it from the lobby when I was no longer stressed about my child being disruptive. I certainly wouldn’t call out a parent as that “performer” did, but I would leave with a grumpy, yelling kid. I just wish airplanes had cry rooms, too.

And not just crying babies. I’ve heard of pastors (one in my area, in fact) that will call out if someone verbally responds during the sermon. They make it known, that’s not done there. I can understand if call and response is not part of your tradition, but to your point about shaming, I think that is totally uncalled for. Several years ago, at a previous church, I can remember people turning around and looking at someone who dared to give feedback during a sermon.

This is about the people who may hardly go to church or may be sick with cancer or may be facing terrible hardships … they are there to hear the message and can’t. It’s not about the parent who isn’t even hearing the message themself and obviously doesn’t care if others do. Utilize the nursery or kindly step out, its simple, don’t prevent someone who may never be in church again from hearing a sermon … or yourself. Bring your child to other church events.

Now and again, while trying to proclaim Good News, I would notice a parent preparing to remove a fussy child from worship. Many times I then said, and always wanted to say, “Please do not go on my account. Your child is not bothering me.” Of course it only seemed a matter of time until somebody replied, “Thanks, but you’re sure bothering him.”

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